


take my hand (take my whole life, too)

by NoShipsLikePartnerships



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013), Slow Dancing, This is incredibly sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 14:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20116465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoShipsLikePartnerships/pseuds/NoShipsLikePartnerships
Summary: Newt rises from his seat, and holds out a hand. “Come on.”Hermann glances sideways at his cane, and then back to Newt, hesitating. “I’m not exactly... graceful, on my own.”“You’re not on your own, you’ve got me.”(Or, Newt and Hermann slow dance on a Sunday morning, with some surprises)





	take my hand (take my whole life, too)

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote most of this back in November, but it sat unfinished since then because I wasn't sure how I wanted to end it. Also, because romance really isn't my strong suit lol. This is probably the sappiest thing I've written, hopefully it's not too over the top!

Newt whistles appreciatively as he and Hermann are shown to their table. “Dude, this place is _fancy_.” 

He isn’t wrong, Hermann notes. While the conference they’re attending isn’t terribly exciting, the hotel it’s being held at—technically a _chateau_—is certainly impressive, and the restaurant in which they’re meant to have brunch with their fellow attendees is indeed very elegant.

However, it seems that they’re the first of their group to arrive.

That Newt manages to be anywhere on time, let alone early, is a small miracle in and of itself, though Hermann did play some part in this. They’ve been enjoying their hotel room _quite_ thoroughly, and have worked up a considerable appetite. (Newt had declared that he was “famished” as he’d pulled Hermann into the elevator, in his hurry to get downstairs. Hermann took this as a compliment.)

They have no choice but to wait for everyone else before they can start eating—Newt stares longingly at the buffet—and ask for some coffee, so they aren’t just sitting at an empty table. Hermann takes his black with a splash of milk, and watches, mildly horrified but hardly surprised, as Newt adds milk _and_ cream and then dumps four packets of sugar into his cup for good measure.

“Are you sure that’s enough?” Hermann asks. Newt seems to consider this, then reaches for another sugar packet from the small bowl in the center of the table. Hermann hurriedly pulls the bowl away before he can grab one. “That was a _rhetorical_ question.”

Newt pouts, but Hermann refuses to give in. A potential sugar rush will only lead to a crash, as well as possibly worsen Newt’s anxiety. While it’s been less bad lately, end of the world being averted and all, Hermann would rather he not take the chance. A calm, quiet morning would probably do them both some good, he thinks, as he peruses the menu.

Well, almost quiet. It turns out that the restaurant has live music. There’s a man sitting at a keyboard right by the desserts, which Hermann thinks is a bit of an odd choice, but who is he to judge where this establishment decides to place its entertainment? If they wish for their patrons to be serenaded beside the macaroons, then so be it. He’s currently playing Glenn Miller’s ‘In The Mood,’ and Hermann watches in amusement as Newt bops about in his seat along with the music while sipping at his coffee. It is unbearably adorable.

The musician begins crooning an old love song next, and Hermann suddenly feels as if he’s at a wedding reception, instead of trying to decide whether he’d rather have the french toast or an omelette.

At the change in song, Newt perks up.“Hey, wanna dance?”

Hermann is a bit thrown by the question. He doesn’t dance, and certainly not in public. Newt, on the other hand, is only too happy to flail about to any kind of music, in any setting. “Nobody else is dancing.” 

Newt laughs. “Yeah, that’s because this place is practically _empty_.”

It’s true, Hermann realizes, as he looks around. There are very few diners scattered throughout the room—a man seated in the corner reading a newspaper, a family with several young children across the room, a couple of old ladies nearby. It is a Sunday, though, and still fairly early, so it’s likely that most people have chosen to sleep in. It’s almost as if they have the restaurant to themselves.

Newt rises from his seat, and holds out a hand. “Come on.”

Hermann glances sideways at his cane, and then back to Newt, hesitating. “I’m not exactly... graceful, on my own.”

“You’re not on your own, you’ve got me.”

The words tug at his heartstrings. He’s always done his best to keep his emotions tucked away, deep down inside of him, but Newt somehow always manages to pluck them out with ease.

“Alright,” he finally agrees, and Newt beams at him. Hermann takes Newt’s hand, and allows him to lead the way.

There isn’t any area designated for dancing, but the tables are spaced out enough that they have room to move without fear of bumping into anything. Newt holds one of Hermann’s hands in his, and places the other on his waist. The musician has just launched into a rendition of ‘L-O-V-E’ and Newt grins. 

“This is so cheesy, it’s _perfect_.”

It may be a little old-fashioned, but Hermann has always liked this song, even if he could never really relate to it. At least, not until now.

Love was something that happened to other people. He had never expected to find it for himself.

The song’s a bit uptempo and not exactly ideal for slow dancing, but they make it work. They’re both a little clumsy, Hermann from lack of experience and Newt from lack of practice, but they enjoy themselves all the same, swaying gently together between the mostly empty tables.

_“L is for the way you look at me_

_O is for the only one I see_

_V is very, very extraordinary_

_E is even more than anyone that you adore can”_

Newt mouths the lyrics, a ridiculously exaggerated expression on his face, and Hermann chuckles, shaking his head fondly. As they turn, Newt very carefully dips him, just slightly, arms steady around Hermann’s waist and supporting his back, before pulling him back up again.

“You okay to keep going?” Newt asks, once the song ends. Hermann nods, and they continue dancing. The next song is thankfully slower, and Newt pulls Hermann closer to him. Resting his head on Newt’s shoulder, Hermann breathes in the scent of the hotel’s shampoo in his hair, citrusy and sharp.

They’re getting the hang of it, now, their movements more in sync. Not so much with the music, but with each other, and Hermann thinks that’s probably more important. 

The melody sounds vaguely familiar, although it’s being sung in Italian. He’s sure it’s meant to sound more romantic this way, but now it’s definitely going to bother him, and he struggles to identify it.

“Elvis.”

“What?” Hermann lifts his head, startled, and looks at Newt.

“The song,” Newt explains. Hermann tilts his head and listens more closely. Ah yes, he hears it now, it’s ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love.’ He isn’t certain how Newt knew that he’d been wondering about it, though it’s possibly something leftover from the Ghost Drift. That still happens, from time to time, and Hermann always finds it a bit eerie. Comforting, too, in a strange way, like they’ll always be connected.

“Are you a fan of Mr. Presley, or do you suddenly know Italian?”

“_Molto bene_,” Newt answers confidently. “Linguini. Fettuccine. Uh. Pizza?”

“I see,” Hermann says, feigning disappointment. “And here I thought you might secretly be a master of tongues.”

“Hey, I can do _lots_ of things with my tongue.” Newt waggles his eyebrows, and tugs Hermann closer to demonstrate. He tastes of coffee and far too much sugar, but it’s somehow still perfect. Hermann could almost burst with how much he loves him.

The kiss ends just as the song does. As the music fades out, Hermann hears a smattering of applause, and opens his eyes to see that they’ve acquired a small audience. He feels his face go red, but is not entirely displeased by the attention. In the past, the source of his discomfort around other people stemmed from previous awkward encounters. He’d often worried about embarrassing himself in front of them, of seeming... _lesser_, somehow, something he’d fought against for most of his life, until he’d managed to convince himself he just didn’t care what others thought of him anymore. Right now, though, in this moment, he is with the man he loves, and there is nothing embarrassing about that whatsoever. He feels proud, and he doesn’t care who knows it, or who sees it.

It is, quite frankly, extremely liberating.

Hermann’s glad that he followed Newt up here. He would follow him anywhere, really, would happily spend the rest of his life doing so, which he should perhaps find alarming, but...

He trusts him implicitly with his heart, and knows that he will keep it safe.

It had taken him some time to get to this point, fears and doubts plaguing him, first that it was one-sided, and then that it wouldn’t last, but he doesn’t feel that way anymore. This is mutual, and this is real—he knows that it will last as long as they are willing to fight for it, and they will always fight for it, as well as for each other. Of that, there is no longer any doubt in Hermann’s mind.

Love doesn’t exactly make him fearless, but he’s less fearful when they’re together. Like they can face anything, and win.

He’s never really believed in the concept of ‘soulmates’ and yet, he imagines that it must feel very much like this. In fact, he’s quite certain of it. So certain, that the next words out of his mouth are spoken with as much confidence as when he’d said “together” the night they’d Drifted.

“Marry me.”

Newt’s eyes widen, and he stares at him, for once rendered speechless. “Are... are you sure?” he finally asks. “I mean, you don’t think it’s too soon or anything?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else,” Hermann says, a little puzzled by this reaction. “I have been for some time, now.”

Newt looks relieved. “Okay, that’s good to know. For a second there, I thought maybe it was the Ghost Drift talking.”

“Why would it be the—”

_Oh._

Reaching into his pocket, Newt pulls out a small, black box, and pops it open with a flourish, to reveal a platinum band inside. “Ta-dah! Way to steal my thunder, by the way.”

A smile tugs at Hermann’s lips. “I’ll say ‘yes’ if you do.”

“I do. I mean, I will. I mean, _yes_.” Newt drops to one knee and looks up at Hermann expectantly. It’s amazing, Hermann thinks to himself, how one little word can change everything, but he knows that it will be changing for the better. 

“Yes.”

“Can I do the thing?” Newt asks. Hermann nods, and Newt slips the ring onto his finger before jumping up to kiss him again.

Someone in the room lets out an ‘_aww_’ at this, and he and Newt part, laughing. Looking around, Hermann tries to find the source of the sound, but something else catches his eye instead.

A few tables away, the two old ladies are smiling at them, eyes filled with emotion. One of them reaches over to place her hand over the other’s, and it’s only then that Hermann notices their matching rings. A knowing look passes between them, and he nods, returning the smile, before turning back to his... well, to his _fiance_. (He very much likes the sound of that.)

“Had you planned this?” he asks, gesturing to the musician. The man gives them a little salute and a wink, followed by the first few notes of Etta James’ ‘A Sunday Kind Of Love.’ 

“You know, I actually didn’t,” Newt says. “It just worked out that way, like it was—”

“Meant to be?”

“Exactly.”

Hermann looks down at his hand, admiring the ring—the weight of it feeling like it belongs there, like it was always supposed to be there—then back to Newt. “Just what _were_ you planning, then?”

“Honestly,” Newt says, “I was waiting for the right moment. I, uh, miiight have exaggerated how early we needed to get down here.”

“Did you, now?” Hermann asks, as if he hadn’t already memorized the itinerary for the weekend, and knew precisely what time brunch was meant to start. “Well, you’re just full of surprises this morning, aren’t you?”

“Mostly good ones, I hope?” Newt says it jokingly, but he still looks a little nervous, regardless of the fact that Hermann’s already said “yes” to him.

Hermann’s expression softens. “Very good ones.”

By now, the restaurant’s begun to fill up a bit more, and he sees that their colleagues have started to arrive. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t just a little disappointed. But perhaps he and Newt can come back for dinner, maybe take a walk outside by the lake and enjoy a nice, romantic evening once the conference is over.

“Good timing,” Newt comments, nodding toward their group. “Guess we should probably go join them, huh?”

“Yes, I suppose we should,” Hermann agrees. “Come, let’s eat.”

“Food second,” Newt says, and takes Hermann’s hand again. “First, I want to show off my future husband.”

Hermann smiles—as a matter of fact, he doesn’t think he’s stopped smiling this entire time.

_Husband._

He likes the sound of that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Can't Help Falling In Love" by Elvis Presley. While the original is great, please do yourselves a favor and listen to [this beautiful cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MUvezD__AHE) by Anson Seabra. (Then please imagine Newt and Hermann dancing to it at their wedding.)
> 
> The restaurant here is loosely based on one I was actually at a while ago. There was indeed a man playing romantic songs next to the desserts, which I still maintain is kind of odd, but it also helped inspire this, so. Thank you, random piano man.
> 
> As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated :) You can also find me on tumblr @chalkstardust (formerly @thewintersoufflegirl)


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